


Bending to the Yoke

by VeryDoubtfulGuest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry is of age!, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Severus is not as indifferent as he appears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryDoubtfulGuest/pseuds/VeryDoubtfulGuest
Summary: Outright smut. Harry visits a certain Potions Master for immoral purposes.
Originally published on FanFiction.net, though I have made minimal edits.





	

"...thinking about you all day, my beautiful boy."

The voice. _That_ voice, like syrup and smoke, snaking through the darkness even as Snape seized him with those long-fingered hands, forced him against the door. Harry moaned as the professor's mouth came down on his, the familiar chant starting in the back of his mind. _Wrong wrong wrong_. All summer, it had been wrong, Harry watching, Harry wondering, Harry following and finally getting caught. And now, the night of the Sorting Feast, all the students snug in their beds after he'd been introduced as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, he'd come creeping down to the dungeons in desperate hope it wasn't over.

It wasn't.

Snape tasted like brandy, smelled like bitter herbs, and his mouth was avid on Harry's own as he pressed the smaller man back, through the door, into the potion master's chambers. They paused just inside for Snape to lock and ward the door, then an awkward moment while Harry stood, hands twisting, looking around and wandering toward the fire which was the only light in the room. He was searingly aware of those dark eyes on him, making him even more nervous. "I was worried..." he began.

"Quiet, pet," Snape murmured, all velvet and insinuation. "I have a better use for your mouth." Kisses, again, kisses like drugs, and Harry fleetingly wondered if the man didn't coat his lips with some potion to make the world dip and spin until he clung, gasped, writhed like a whore as strong hands tormented his nipples through his shirt. "Bedroom." A command, albeit slightly unsteady, and Harry obeyed.

He stopped once inside the smaller room, snared as he turned to find Snape leaning in the doorway with lazy assurance. "Harry," he smiled, tone rich with menace. "Take off your clothes." Damn the man's confidence! It made it a thousand times more difficult. He felt like his arousal must already be obvious to his...lover? Tormentor? Both, surely, as he was both aroused and ashamed as he unbuttoned his shirt, slipped out of his pants, hesitated for a moment before sliding off his underwear as well. Snape watched, approved, pushed away from the door to cross the rug and lift Harry's chin so emerald met and sparked with ebony. "Perfection," he breathed, letting that hand trail down, down, over throat and shoulder, chest and belly, until Harry was nearly screaming in frustration. He arched helplessly as Snape's fingers closed around his cock, mewling in his throat, goaded by a dark and possessive laugh as much as by the stroking. "Bend for me, Harry," came the voice again. "Brace yourself on the bed, and bend."

Harry, freed from that maddening touch, did as he was bid, turning to brace his arms on the high bed. He heard the swish of Snape's robes, a drawer opening, and jumped as warm slickness was teased over his opening. No further teasing, tonight, no fanfare or foreplay. Just the blunt head of it, the thickness, pressure and heat and yes, dear god, yes inside, slowly, slowly, to the hilt. "Oh, my pet," Snape murmured against the nape of his neck, and then withdrew to begin a savage rhythm. Harry soon collapsed over the bed, clawing at the blankets, whimpering as the pounding took him out of linear awareness, drew time thin and fine like a wire. He came, sobbing, only dimly aware that Snape was whispering his name over and over, that the older man was spending, too, inside him. Urgent pleasure, then, fading, as Snape withdrew and, for a moment, rested his cheek against Harry's sweating back.


End file.
